


The One Where Freddie Spills the Beans

by dearmrsawyer



Series: propose propose propose [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 22:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearmrsawyer/pseuds/dearmrsawyer
Summary: Freddie inadvertently blows Louis' secret plan while Niall is babysitting.





	The One Where Freddie Spills the Beans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1000_directions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/gifts).



**The One Where Freddie Spills the Beans**

The child proofing around Louis’ house is wildly insufficient. Niall doesn’t know if Louis just let it lapse, or if Freddie’s beyond any kind of child proofing at this stage. He suspects nothing would hold him back anymore.

His one saving grace is Cliff, who is immeasurably patient with Freddie’s wandering hands and tight fingers, and if ever Niall begins to find a situation hard to manage, he can get down on Freddie’s level and eagerly ask, “Where’s Cliff, hey? Where’s your furry mate?” It sends the kid running in the right direction every time.

It’s not the first time Niall’s been entrusted with Freddie’s care all on his lonesome. It doesn’t come around often, what with Briana being local, but every now and then Louis find himself in a bind. Briana’s family is spending this weekend in Vegas, Oli’s visiting home for the first time in months, and Louis’ got a meeting at a real office where he can’t just bring Freddie along and let him play with the percussion instruments.

Niall’s heart rate no longer spikes dangerously at the thought of being Freddie’s caregiver for a few hours. This is his third rodeo, and at least now if there’s something wrong, Freddie is old enough to give him limited guidance on what it is.

The one warning Louis had given was that the kid is always on his newfound feet.

And he’s right. If Niall’s didn’t know better, he’d think Freddie’s been storing energy all these months, just waiting to release it the moment he could propel himself forward.

For the first hour its good fun. Niall takes him out into the yard and they chase either Cliff or the toddler-sized football across the grass.

Once the sun goes down, Niall brings him inside and they spend a while racing around the living room, Niall warily watching the edges of the rug.

By hour three, Niall’s knee is pulling tighter than it’s been since Socceraid, and he flicks on the TV, hoping some brightly-coloured characters will grab Freddie’s attention.

It works for about fifteen minutes, just long enough for Niall’s bones to settle into the couch, before Freddie is pushing himself up—hands and knees, then downward dog—until he’s on his feet and toddling off.

His eyes are alight above his dummy, arms mildly splayed as he picks up speed.

“Where you off to now, bud?” Niall grunts.

Freddie continues through the useless safety gate and into the hall, his feet echoing in Louis’ spacious house. Niall heaves himself up with a groan that perks Cliff’s ears.

Freddie’s halfway to the bedrooms before Niall catches up.

“Where we going, hey?”

Niall prefers not to try corralling kids, but rather to let them go until safety requires that he intervene, so he staggers after Freddie’s ambitious steps—past the guestrooms, past the nursery, and towards the master bedroom.

Niall’s familiar with the widespread disarray of Louis’ bedroom. The rest of his house swings between chaos and order, depending on how recently the cleaner’s been by, but there’s a nest-like quality to this room that even a professional hasn’t managed to conquer.

He flicks on the light. There are clothes on the chair, the bed, the floor, so much so that it’s hard to believe there’s even a wardrobe across the room. Toys are scattered in odd corners and atop random surfaces. Niall figures Freddie must be after one of them.

“Whatcha after?”

Freddie bypasses the assortment of belongings strewn across the carpet, headed for the bed. He throws his hands out, slapping them against the bedside table. His little fingers splay against the glossy white before going for the knob.

“Don’t think you need to go in there, bud, c’mon,” Niall says, reaching to abort Freddie’s fingers, but the drawer’s open in the time it takes him to cross the room.

“C’mon,” Niall repeats, chuckling when Freddie plunges one hand inside like a lucky dip. He pulls it back out, pushing the drawer closed with his good knee, before he sees Freddie managed to grab something.

“Troublemaker.” He pries Freddie’s fingers from around what he realises to be a black, velvet box.

The kind of black, velvet box that tends to contain one very specific sort of thing.

Every system in Niall’s body seizes.

There are a number of things Niall ought to be monitoring in this moment. Freddie’s moved onto a toy half-buried beneath the edge of Louis’ bed. Cliff’s arrived, seemingly tired of being left alone on the other side of the house. Neither of them hold any weight to what’s enclosed in his fist.

There are two roads in front of him: one where he opens the box, and one where he doesn’t. Niall knows they both end the same way. He knows what’s in the box.

His fingers quiver against the grain of the velvet. Millions of soft barbs rub at the pad of his thumb and he exhales shakily. His life, a very big life, suddenly shrinks down to the palm of his hand.

It’s only when Freddie whines that Niall realises he’s totally lost the passage of time.

“Yeah,” he says nonsensically, as Freddie’s eyes beckon him to follow. He’s evidently grown bored of this room now. “Yeah.”

Freddie buries a hand in Cliff’s fur and practically pulls him out, the dog keeping pace enough to save himself any pain. Niall sways after them, and he doesn’t even turn out the light.

***

Louis gets home exactly fifty-three minutes later, twenty-seven minutes after Freddie finally passed out, long after Niall himself had felt due a nap.

There are two audible steps, a pause, and then they soften the rest of the way up the hall. He rounds the corner in red socks, cuffed trackies and a white tee. His hair is soft and ruffled in that self-inflicted way, and he’s got a clean-shaven face, the one giveaway of meeting day.

“He down?”

Niall nods.

“Thanks for watching him,” Louis huffs, whumping down onto the couch beside him. One of his hands drops heavily onto Niall’s thigh before gently smoothing down his knee, a careful reflex. “Not often in a spot like that.”

Niall doesn’t say anything, which draws Louis’ eye. They’re a little heavier than usual. He’s obviously tired; bureaucracy does that to him.

“You alright, lad?”

Niall nods stiffly, a beat too late, and Louis turns properly towards him, palm running back across his knee.

“Don’t seem it.”

Niall swallows, tries to subtly clear his throat so it doesn’t crack.

“I, um—found something,” he says, eyes dropping. “Freddie did.”

One of Louis’ eyebrows lift in the specifically dubious way they only ever do when Freddie unexpectedly enters conversation.

“Anything good?” he prompts. There’s a wariness to his tone that suggests he isn’t sure whether this is gonna be good or bad.

Niall wants to say _yes, the very best_ , but his voice isn’t all there. Instead, he just holds out his hand, palm up.

Louis gapes, his face paling and then flooding with colour, and his hand tightens on Niall’s knee. An ache flashes through his joint.

Niall takes a deep breath, and another.

And another.

He takes eleven more before Louis says anything.

“Spilled the beans,” he murmurs, eyes noticeably avoiding Niall’s.

Niall nods, breathes again.

Louis inhales like he’s about to speak again, but it takes a moment.

“I’m… well. It’s, s’pose I ought—it’s not what I thought, but—”

His sentence starts and restarts over and over, and with every fumble, ease seems to settle back in Niall’s chest. Every stuttered word, and Niall gets closer to finding his.

“Lou.”

Louis looks at Niall, gaze flicking between his eyes like he isn’t sure which one of them will hold more truth.

“I uh—” Louis starts again. “So… _so?_ ”

And Niall laughs then, because that’s so like Louis, to get out of doing the hard work if he can. But Niall will allow it, for the sake of the box still in his hand. The second he’d recognised what it was, he’d known what he was going to say.

“Yeah, Tommo,” he smiles, soft. “Definitely, yeah.”

Louis loosens, easing into the couch the way he had before, but his face is alive now, glowing. He lifts his hand from Niall’s knee and ruffles his hair, stopping only when Niall pulls his fingers away. Louis grabs the box instead, flipping it open. He slips the ring onto Niall’s finger.

“Couldn’t let me have my moment, could you?” he gripes, but he’s smiling too. “Had to take over the second you found it.”

“Didn’t know how long you were gonna take to get to it! Don’t even know how long you’ve had this already. Figured I’d save us some time.”

“I could’ve had a whole plan.”

“You didn’t.”

“I might’ve.”

“Nah.”

Louis scowls.

Niall grins. “Your plans come together fast. If you had one, I would’ve been wearing this already.” He leans forward to press their lips together.


End file.
